


Winter leaves with the Snow

by TheEagleGirl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, R plus L equals J
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:09:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2189448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEagleGirl/pseuds/TheEagleGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jon and Sansa are forced into marriage, and neither of them can seem to grow closer to their new spouse.<br/>Their awkward relationship stems from the fact that they can't seem to talk to one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know, another forced marriage fic. I think it's worth reading, though!
> 
> follow me on tumblr as the-eagle-girl

Sansa couldn't seem to stop staring at her lap.

Anything, _anything,_ would be better. It would be better if she screamed, Daenerys thinks. A look to her nephew sees him grinding his teeth, clenching and unclenching his sword hand. If only Sansa would speak out, Dany would find another suitor. She would stop this silly proposal, if only Jon would ask. But Eddard Stark had raised his children better than that, it seemed. So Jon clenched his _noble_ jaw-damn him-and Sansa stared at her lap and neither said a word.

Daenerys takes a sip of wine, to clear her throat of the rancid taste this business has left in her mouth, and dismisses her nephew.

"Lady Stark," Dany begins, "Don't look so defeated. Your children will be my heirs. Your sons will be kings and princes."

Sansa looks up at Dany and smiles thinly. "Just so, Your Grace. Just as I've always dreamed."

But her voice is hollow as she says the words.

They are married in a week.

* * *

 Jon Snow is not a passionate man.

Sansa knows this. But still, she'd thought that her wedding night would have forced him to be. He seemed almost pained when he was thrown into their chambers by giggling girls, stripped to his smallclothes. He's here for the same reason (mostly) as she is-they want to go home. But even more so, Jon wants to help Sansa go home. Because otherwise, without his help, she will be shepherded off to the next Lord who looks her way.

But that is no need for the discomfort she sees in his eyes now.

She's heard Queens Daenerys tease him before. "Jon Snow!" the queen had admonished, calling him by his bastard name affectionately, "Why, I must say that you blush like a maid! I'd think you were, if I did not know otherwise!"

Sansa knows she is not the first. Mayhaps not even the second. But she is sure, with the honor that Ned Stark had installed in Jon, that she will be the last. Even if his life is unhappy to the end.

So she waits on the bed, and sees Jon steeling himself, as if readying for a swordfight.

"Sansa," he starts, and it is with such hesitancy that she almost laughs. Instead she steels herself as well, and makes her face unmovable, like ice.

"Come to the bed, my Prince. It's much warmer here."

She knows this is the wrong thing to say by the look on his face.

But still, he comes.

Jon knows he has a duty to fulfill, same as her.

And they do. It's not as unpleasant as Sansa thought it would be when she considered being bedded by one who, until a year ago, was her "half-brother". It doesn't hurt, exactly, but there is a certain warmth missing, one that Sansa thought she'd have in her marriage, back when she was a girl. And then it is done. She is a woman wedded and bedded.

Too bad it looked like Jon had a terrible time of it.

* * *

When they are back in Winterfell, Jon barely visits Sansa's chambers.

Their chambers are side by side, but he still avoids her touch like a plague. They are amiable, and work together restoring the North, as a lady and lord of Winterfell should act. But there is nothing that Sansa can do-or wants to really- to get her husband within her chambers. Truthfully, she isn't quite sure they should upset the balance they have now, as partners rather than lovers.

Still, her handmaids can't seem to act normally around her lord husband, and it comes to Sansa's attention that Jon is _apparently_ considered very, _very_ handsome.

Sansa doesn't think she knows what that means anymore.

He's visited her chambers three times since the wedding, and they have been married more than a year now. Sansa doesn't really mind the bedding. Jon tries to make it pleasurable for her, but Sansa cannot shake the feeling that it is wrong to have someone so close, not after she spent years throwing them away. Still, when he does come, she will not refuse him.

 People whisper.

The whispers are what brings the Dragon Queen to court.

Sansa admits, she does not make the best, most welcoming wife to her husband. But she still is the Lady of Winterfell. But she's been forgetting something about the arrangement she and Jon have.

She needs to give heirs to the throne. And she has a desperate feeling that this is why the Queen has come.

* * *

Daenerys comes to visit at just the right time. Jon nearly laughs when he sees Drogon circling the air. She's sent no notice, and Jon is sure that she hasn't even told her people in King's Landing that she's left, leaving the ruling to Aegon.

But Jon is happy nonetheless. 

"Jon, my darling nephew!" Dany shouts when she lands. The people of Winterfell shy away from the dragon. "I have missed you!"

Screwing proper conduct, Dany marches past his guard and the procession and embraces Jon. He laughs, almost, and hugs her back.

To Jon's left is Sansa, who is quiet at the exchange.

It surprises Jon that she's barely spoken since seeing the dragon. Sansa, although more of a sister than wife truthfully, has never lacked for words unless you count the bedchamber, where she was stoic and quiet.

She's nervous now, though. Why, he can't say.

Dany hugs Sansa next, earning a confused look to flicker across Sansa's face, but she composes herself.

"I've been flying for three days to come see you, Jon Snow-Targaryen. It's time you showed me your blasted North from a Lord's seat, not a battle tent. But first, I need food. Flying is hard work."

Jon chuckles at that and allows Dany to grab his arm.

* * *

They feast in Jon's solar. 

Despite Sansa's earlier suggestion that Queen Dany might be more comfortable with a feast, Jon had asked for a feast for three to be set in his solar. 

"She will want a quiet talk," Jon reasoned. "She likes to catch up."

It irks Sansa that Jon calls the queen "Dany" and that he seems to know so much about her. It's not  _Dany_ that Jon grew up with, is it? 

Her chest hurts now.

It started when Jon had hugged Dany in the yard. All this time, Sansa had avoided touching him. He seemed uncomfortable with their marriage, and didn't touch her much either.

It hurt more when she saw him laugh.

Jon has never laughed for her. At least, not since they've been married.

Did he ever laugh with her?

Sansa's head hurts. 

She is in her third cup of wine, when she usually stops after one,  and the Queen turns to her, and says, "Well, Jon, I'm sure you and Sansa are working diligently on making an heir to the Iron Throne."

That's all it takes. Jon's easygoing attitude goes out the window, and Sansa pours another cup.

"Yes," she answers, looking at the Queen, "quite diligently. You needn't worry, Your Grace, the realm will have an heir."

The Queen looks surprised, but smiles thinly at Sansa, a smile that widens when she turns to Jon, who has become a block of ice.

"Good, then."

* * *

Jon asks her if he may join her in her chambers later that evening.

Sansa wants to refuse, wants to drown in wine, but then she remembers she has a  _duty_ (Gods, she'd thought she'd do this out of love at one childish point) so she nods assent.

And so begins their stilted love affair anew.

* * *

Jon's only come to her three times before. Sansa knows this is why she's uncomfortable. But as she prepares to recieve her lord husband, she feels dread.

He looked so  _free_ with the Queen. He should feel free in a marriage, should he not? And Sansa, as well.

Unless he just looked that way for the Queen.

Sansa knows they've spent many months together, planning for battles and conquering lands for her. Queen Daenerys favors her nephews, Aegon and Jon, but chose Aegon to marry. 

Even though she is barren.

Perhaps she wanted her  _love_ to bear the heirs to the throne. Perhaps that's why Jon was forced to marry Sansa.

"My Lady? Sansa?"

Sansa turns suddenly, and realizes that Jon has been calling her name for a few moments now. 

"My Lord," she says. "Hello. I'm sorry, I don't even know what I was thinking."

Even here, she is a liar.

Jon smiles, and it is a little strained. "Do not apologize, my lady. I should have knocked. Your doors were opened."

Sansa nods. She left them open so Jon would not turn away. 

And then it's terrible. Jon is waiting for her to say something, but she can't think. It's the wine. It's the jealousy. Anything.

But Sansa has never been jealous of Jon before.

So she smiles, and says, "My Lo-Jon." His face registers shock for a moment. She only calls him "My Lord" in her chambers.

But Sansa cannot have the Dragon Queen stare at her so, as if she knows something about Jon, as if she has a hold over him that Sansa herself does not.

So Sansa does something unexpected. She slides up to Jon, and kisses him.

It is a shy kiss. Sansa has kissed boys before, but she and Jon have had few kisses between the two of them. She does not know Jon's mouth, just as she does not know his body. 

He is still for a moment.

"Sansa," he whispers as he holds her away, "You do not-I understand you are replying to the pressure Daenerys has you under but you don't have to-"

Sansa can't bear his eyes staring at her, grey and concerned, so she cups his face and presses her thumb over his mouth. "Jon Snow," she admonishes softly, "You should know I do nothing unless I want to."

It's true. Sansa wants children. She wants heirs.

And she kisses him again.

He shudders softly, and handles her like a doll. It is always like this, soft and quiet and slow, and Sansa readies herself for the night.

Something about his tenderness changes quickly, though. It would seem Jon cannot control his movements as he did the last time because he is faster, and hits deeper. Sansa changes her grip on the sheets to a tighter hold.

Her back arches off the bed.

* * *

Jon can't stay in bed for long. At dawn he joins the men in the yard, only to see Dany already awake.

"I'm leaving as soon as midday meal is over," Dany tells him. "I've a long way to ride."

"Why did you come so quickly?" Jon has to ask, "Without a guard? Dany, is everything well with you and Aegon? And at court?"

Dany smiles, "Quite well." She looks troubled. "Aegon is upset that he gets so little power. He wants more."

Jon nods, "I know. That's the way Aegon is, Dany. He has been raised thinking he would be king."

Dany shakes her head. "I know. But he thought he would at least find pleasure in the fact that at least his children would take the throne. I've not told him I'm barren, Jon, but he seems to be figuring it out. He knows I'm fond of you as well. Your sons will be my heirs."

Jon hugs the woman that is his aunt, his queen, and his best friend. "Dany," He says quietly, "What if Aegon..."

"He won't touch your children, Jon. Even if I die, he will die before me."

Daenerys has steel in her voice and fire in her eyes and Jon realizes that she won't let anything happen to Jon. Her marriage with Aegon seems to have little love, and it's not as if Dany hasn't killed her suitors before. And Jon is Dany's favorite person in the world now.

Jon shudders with the knowledge of Dany's plans to murder his brother.

* * *

Sansa awakes alone.

She felt Jon leave the bed before, and knows he spent most of the night. When he got up to leave, Sansa had whispered, "Sleep, Jon," and he had given her a look she couldn't read and got back in bed.

Sansa had felt his heat, just a few inches from her, the entire nights.

She'd barely slept.

* * *

Before the Dragon Queen leaves at midday, Jon seemed to be in a sour mood. For Jon, that meant brooding and talking little.

For Sansa, it meant dealing with the lords and their petitions.

The lords of the North have gotten used to seeing Sansa on the weirwood throne. Jon is more of a strategist, and running all of the North keeps him very busy in a way Lord Eddard had never been. Today, however, Jon is in his solar with his aunt, going over trade lines, and Sansa must hear the petitioners alone. It is a complete surprise to her when the Queen calls for her right before they are set to eat.

"My Lady," Daenerys says to Sansa. The Queen is in Sansa's solar, looking at Sansa's embroidery. It is a fine piece, one she was making in honor of Jon's nameday, of a dragon and a direwolf, circling.

"Beautiful work, I must say. How are you finding your marriage?"

The Queen has a reputation of being blunt.

Sansa stills, "Pleasant, thank you, Your Grace. And yours?"

Daenerys shrugs, a careless gesture, one Sansa hasn't made since her Septa told her how vulgar it looked.

"I am not here to talk about Aegon, Sansa. I'm here to talk of you. And Jon."

Sansa feels fear grab the back of her neck.

The Queen sets down the needlework and holds Sansa's hand, tightly. "My lady, I am barren." The Queen's voice is tight, strained.

Sansa nods, as if this is news to her. Daenerys told her this just one year past, in King's Landing.

Daenerys looks Sansa in the eye and says, "The condition of you and Jon coming back to the North was that your firstborn would be my heir, Sansa. You understand that means I need heirs, don't you?"

Sansa says nothing, so the Queen continues, "I understand you and Jon don't have the easiest of marriages, Sansa..."

"We are trying," Sansa says quickly. "We are, Your Grace. We have just started, but I promise you, you will have heirs."

Daenerys stares Sansa down, and finally nods briskly. Then she smiles. "Come. I'm haven't been this famished since Jon and I took King's Landing. Has he ever told you of it? No? It's quite a tale-"

* * *

 

As soon as Dany leaves and the courtyard is filled with noise after seeing her fly away, Sansa whispers to Jon, "Call on me tonight."

He is sure an insect flew into his mouth when he opened it in shock.

* * *

He's come to her every night for nearly a moon when Sansa admits to herself that her encounters with Jon have become something else.

Their time in her chambers has been pleasant, but now she realizes that her body _likes_ having Jon inside her, likes him near. The sensation she experienced during Daenerys's visit, when her back arched and she felt tingles in her body, comes more often, and by gods, Jon is a good lover.

However well matched they are in her rooms, though, makes no difference in the outside world. Out in the open, Jon and Sansa have nothing in common, no string tied between them to keep them together. At least, Sansa doesn't sense one.

* * *

 

Jon is staring at Sansa undressing when Sam runs in as fast as he can and nearly collapses.

Sansa immediately grabs her robe and flushes a deep scarlet. Jon, who had been unlacing his tunic, pulled it back together.

"Sam! What are you doing?!"

Sam just gasps and holds out his letter, "I-I was i-in the rookery a-a-and th-this came! F-f-from the Queen!"

Jon's hands are shaking when he grabs the letter.

Sansa watches him read it and gasps when he drops it and sits on the bed, heavily.

He is still shaking, so she comes to him and holds his hand. "What is it, Jon?"

His eyes are red.

"My brother has attacked Daenerys. She is calling me to war."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon goes to war and Sansa thinks of him and what her marriage has become.

Jon never thought he'd be back here, yet he is. It's a large tent, and Dany has set it up the way it used to be. Tapestries, generals, maps, all the same. The only thing changed now is that the Queen is not here, but in King's Landing.

 _Come quickly_ , Dany's letter had said _, Aegon has risen and tried to steal my throne, Jon. I need you here, as my general. You understand, don't you? I am the queen now. I must stay in King's Landing. If I leave, Aegon has won. Come as fast as you can. Sansa can keep the North._

Sansa had looked at him, her face unreadable when she'd grabbed the letter and read the words aloud. "My Lord, you must go," she'd whispered.

Jon hopes he's left a child in her. He knows how much Sansa wants children, even if she doesn't want him. If he dies without an heir, so does Dany.

For some reason, he misses Sansa. She's occupying much of his free thoughts (little as they are) as he eats, as he sleeps on the rough ground and right before he enters battle. Every time he rides into a fight, with Ghost at his side, he feels as though _this_ might be his last battle, like mayhaps he should have sent another letter to his wife.

He doesn't love her. But he thinks he can, and that is enough to make him want to return to her.

Sansa occupies his free thoughts. More often, though, he is thinking of the waging war.

The North is secure from Aegon, Jon knows, and so are the Eyrie and the Riverlands, loyal to Sansa and in turn loyal to the Queen. The stormlands are Aegon's though, and so is Dorne. Daario Naharis and the Unsullied take to Dorne and Jon and his army set for the Stormlands.

* * *

Sansa weeps when she sees her moon's blood.

_I failed. The only job I was given I have failed._

Jon is fighting for the realm and Sansa's fould mood permeates the castle for a week after he has left, from the day he leaves to the day her moon's blood comes. Only then does she take herself in hand, open the doors to Jon's chambers, and breathe in his scent.

 _He is gone, to fight for the thrones and play the game once more. But I will keep the North for him_.

She walks to his wardrobe and picks out a shirt. It smells like him, woodsy and heady and as if he's just taken it off after a day of listening to petitions. Over the month after the queen's visit, Sansa has grown familiar with his smell.

It is past midnight when Sansa settles in Jon's bed, wearing his shirt and nothing else, and trying to sleep.

She can't. She is too busy worrying.

Her mother once said that the woman always waited. For her man. Sansa's never understood why she must wait, what fear there is in the waiting. But now she knows.

She gets up, cinches her robe, and resolves to stop moping and be the Lady of Winterfell. A lady Jon will be proud of. One that he could- nay, that he _will_ love.

And then she will tell him that she loves him as well.

* * *

Jon's armor is heavy with gore and another man's blood when he gets the letter.

_I am sorry. I am not with child._

He should have expected it. They'd only started trying a short while ago. Still, he'd hoped.

_I pray for you, My Lord. Jon, be careful. I shall be dreadfully angry with you if you die._

Jon grins absently, reading the page.

"What's so funny?"

Jon turns, and there is Arya, flicking blood off her own sword. She has a proper one now, named _Nymeria_ , but fights with Needle tucked on her sword belt. During the battle, Jon remembers seeing her poke a man with Needle, right in the neck. The evidence is all over her armor, blood and guts staining the steel plates, but Jon just feels relief. His sister-cousin is alive.

"Oh, just your sister telling me that she's angry with me."

Arya scoffs. "Oi, she's got no right. You're the one fighting for her safety, ain't you?" Then, in a softer tone, "How is Sansa?"

Jon slides his sword belt off so he can see the letters on his desk better. "She sounds fine, Arya. Not pregnant, though."

Arya clicks her tongue. "Well then, you weren't trying hard enough, I'd say."

Jon missed Arya while he was in Winterfell. She lives in the Reach now, and although Jon hasn't made her say it yet, he knows that it has something to do with a boy named Gendry who's settled as the blacksmith for the Tyrells. Sansa's name is a sore point between them, and Jon knows she disapproves.

"You should write her, little sister. She misses you."

Arya scoffs, "Right."

Jon shrugs out of his armor finally, and asks his squire to fetch him some blank paper, so he can write to his wife.

* * *

Dany should have known Aegon would find out about it.

He was raving mad. He would have accepted anything else so long as he was king. But he couldn't have accepted this.

Dany sends her bedwarmers away before she allows herself to cry.

Jon's letter is crumpled in her hand. _I am queen,_ she thinks, _and I must make the hard choices. I did this for the good of the realm._

True, she could have married off Sansa Stark to Aegon instead, but that meant that her heir would be Aegon's son. She wouldn't allow that. From the moment she met Jon Snow, she knew that he would be the father of her heirs.

Even if that meant she couldn't have him.

Dany cried, under the light of the same moon that shone on both her nephews, Jon writing diligently to his wife and Aegon plotting his revenge. She cried because Sansa Stark had _her_ love, and she didn't even want it.

Dany was a wreck when she came back from Winterfell. She should have known Aegon would find out about her feelings.

* * *

Jon comes home from battle a year after it starts, and his family has become smaller once more. Aegon, his laughing brother, his beautiful brother, dead, and once more Jon is still alive.

He is so far in his gloom that he hardly notices Winterfell until he is almost upon it.

Sansa is beautiful, as ever, and smiling at him. He does not love her, but he thinks he can.

He bows to her as soon as he gets off his horse. "My lady," he says gravely.

Her smile tastes like lemon cakes.

* * *

Sansa kisses Jon when he comes to her chambers, softly and on the cheek. "I have missed you My Lord."

He is weary and tired and hardly notices that he has reached for her, embracing her tightly, until she is already in his arms and shaking. She is not crying exactly, but rather relieved that he is alive and in her arms.

"And I you, My Lady."

He kisses her slowly, learning her again. She has undone her hair for him, and it is a curtain over them as he lays on the bed and she sits on him, kissing him. He opens her eyes, and they stare at one another for a long moment.

It's dark, but they can see one another.

Finally.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please review!


End file.
